patchwork memories

There are many memories I have which are not full stories but simple snapshots. This is especially true of my childhood – where the patchwork of memories is not numbered or dated, and sometimes one memory includes repeats of the same thing, or event. Or an object – I remember an object in many phases, but I could not place it on a chronological line.

I remember the huge kitchen table where we ate our meals; I also remember cutting up sponges there and making paintings, using the sponges as stamps. I remember making cards for my mother using tissue paper to make flowers.

I remember collecting warm eggs from the henhouse, and how the hens would let me stroke their backs.

I remember being fascinated by the gas mask in the loft room.

I remember clambering up staircases with Bonnie, our black Labrador, in tow – making believe I was scaling mountains and waterfalls in some amazing adventure.

I remember my dad finding a grass snake and putting it in a fish tank for a few moments so I could have a good look at it; I remember also catching sight of an adder as I played with the petals of a flower on a bush.

I remember the guinea pigs hollering with excitement when they heard any kind of bag rustling, thinking it was feeding time. I remember when Topsy, one of our rabbits, gave birth.

I remember lying on my tummy watching the ants march to and fro from their nest; I remember catching butterflies and the delight when they stayed briefly on my finger when they were free to go.

I remember turning out all the lights so I could play ‘spaceships’ with Bonnie, landing on a distant planet, going round with a torch and discovering the resident alien (aka the hamster).

I remember our cats, Twinkle and Tiptoes, curled on my lap and purring; I also remember the too-enthusiastic pummelling with their claws which came before hand as they got themselves comfortable.

I remember making a house out of an old television box and bringing a tolerant Twinkle inside with me.

I remember how my brother, sometimes my dad, would on my request pick me up by my ankles and swing me round in circles, while I squealed in delight.

I remember hurtling down a snow covered hill on a simple plastic sack.

I remember frequently asking to hear stories of my brothers and sisters when they were my age (I am the youngest by ten years).

I remember the smell of the Christmas tree and how I would make little piles out of the pine needles on the carpet.

I remember lying in the dark in front of the fire.

I remember having staring contests with my sister (she who laughs, loses).

I remember the view from our old house.

I remember feeling – elation, disappointment, joy, hurt, fascination, puzzlement.

I remember more than all this – but this will do for now…

Today: 4/10, high

20 thoughts on “patchwork memories

  1. Lynnette Kraft says:

    Lucy,I loved this! I’m going to do it like that one of these weeks. Sometimes you just have a bunch of sweet memories that you don’t necessarily have a story for but you want to document them. I was just thinking of one thing like that yesterday (my momma and I would go for drives and get fried mushrooms and cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper from Dairy Queen), but I knew I couldn’t make a whole blog post about it. So, thanks for the idea to do a whole bunch of little memories! I love it!Lynnette 🙂


  2. Abigail Kraft says:

    Wonderful Memories. The “snapshots” of life often create the most special memories. They’re not so much stories, but more thoughts, emotions, and sensations that take us back to certain times in our lives. It’s a more intimate kind of memory I believe.Thanks so much for sharing. Beautiful as usual. :)In His arms,–Abigail


  3. Linda says:

    Lucy, this is a good way to get memories down on paper without alot of trouble trying to remember the order or the years that things happened. I am not good with dates.I enjoyed your memories and they sparked some more memories in me too.I will share them on another Weds. Walk.Blessings!Linda


  4. Becca says:

    This is how most of my memories are. Majority of them do not have long stories to them they are just simply little things that I can recall. Thanks for sharing. I am sure some of my memories will be like this in the future.


  5. Tricia says:

    I love your memories. They remind me of memories of my own… Like feeding peanuts to the wild squirrel from my hand… and eating my peanut butter & jelly sandwiches but leaving the crusts, which I'd then make up stories about… and exploring the creek behind our house and bringing home crayfish, minnows, frogs, and turtles…Thanks for jogging my own trip down memory lane. 🙂


  6. Lucy says:

    Tricia, I’m fascinated…stories about the crusts?! Glad everyone enjoyed the style of this entry – i think there’ll be a few more like it; sometimes if there’s not enough time to construct a big story-like entry, this style is much simpler – but just as evocative…


  7. Tricia says:

    LOL – yes, I was a strange child on occasion. This would have been when I was around 4, I think. I would pretend that the crusts were characters from Beatrix Potter stories. The only reason I can think of for this is that I really didn’t like to eat the crusts, but I guess I didn’t want to “waste” them, either. I have since learned to appreciate all parts of bread as digestible. 🙂


  8. Lucy says:

    LOL – how funny! My dad used to play this game when I was little where he pretended his thumbs (and fingers) were people and do the squeaky voices for them…which I found hilarious. I never thought of doing it with crusts though! (Though I did like Beatrix Potter.)My grandmother told me that if I didn’t eat my crusts my hair wouldn’t curl. This was not the best strategy as I was quite happy with straight hair!


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